The Devil's Backbone
by LoverGurrl411
Summary: When Bella moves to Forks Jacob has already phased and is Alpha of the pack. Their eyes meet and the city of Forks might never be the same again. AU. Alpha Jacob. Imprint Bella. A new and down to Earth spin on an old story.
1. Magia Negra

Disclaimer – I own nothing.

A.N - Welcome all! So, I have decided, like a crazy person, to start writing a Jacob/Bella story. I will work this story the way I worked Down By the Water and am currently working So Close, Yet So Far: **this story will be categorized as complete, and I will add chapters whenever the inspiration strikes (I tend to post about once a month usually) until the story is actually complete to my liking. I will make sure to never leave a chapter on a cliff hanger so you feel that the story is complete until the next chapter.**

Note: this story is in Bella's POV and begins from the very beginning. AU.

After reading lots of J/B I am going to try my hand at doing an Alpha Jacob in complete Jacob character without overdoing the Alpha-ness. I am attempting a balance between the man and Alpha while adding an imprint Bella (and all the effects that come with being an imprint). Not sure if I'll succeed, but let me know! Hope everyone enjoys!

_/Hold my hand, oh baby. It's a long way down to the bottom of the river._

_It's a long way down, a long way down/_

-Bottom of the River, Vocal Rush

Chapter 1 – Magia Negra

Time loved me deeply. Time loved me in a way that she couldn't handle, and so she was mean. Time was cruel at times, shoving things towards me at break-neck speed. But sometimes Time remembered that love was supposed to ache wonderfully. In these moments, she let feelings exist forever—momentarily. Time loved me in a grief stricken manner that crippled me when I walked to a bookstore…towards my love.

Books were the only thing I had ever really loved up until now, in my life. I love the way they smell, the way they feel in my hands, and the way they look – sometimes fragile, sometimes strong.

Books are the only thing accompanying me on my journey to live out the rest of my high school career with my father in Forks, Washington. Charlie Swan, my father, is a strong looking man with stern eyebrows. He's slightly awkward, but considering I only ever see him once a year—sometimes not even that much—it's understandable. Or at least that's how I remember him from the last time I saw him three years ago.

It shouldn't feel weird…but it does. I shouldn't feel anxious, but I do. I know Charlie. He's my father, my blood, but this isn't a visit. I won't be gone in a month max, and I'm not thirteen years old. What about my privacy? What about crowding him? It had never occurred to me until I was walking to meet him, at this very moment that perhaps my presence is imposing. My breathing come slightly shallow as the thoughts run back and forth—mental ping pong.

There's a hand waving slightly in the air. I peer closer, and Charlie has the biggest smile on his face I've ever seen. He doesn't rush to me, and I don't rush to him. He doesn't stop smiling, and I start to smile too.

"Hey, Bells" Charlie hugs me when we reach each other. His hug is tight, warm, and brief, but the warmth lingers when he lets go. His happiness at seeing me seeps into my bones, and I'm happy I'm here. I'm happy that I could make Charlie so happy.

"Hey, dad" my voice is slightly hoarse from lack of use for so many hours. The sound is pleasing to my ears even though I know I must sound like a dying frog to everyone else. In my head, my voice belongs to an exotic princess, or a mature courtesan. I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts. I _wish_ I could be as sophisticated as my imaginings.

He takes my carry-on bag from me (everything else has already been shipped over). We walk to his cruiser and I cringe slightly. I don't want to. I don't mean to, it's just that the cruiser is so _there_. You can't miss it when it passes by, and I love being skimmed over. It's nice to know no one is looking. The feeling is less heavy.

I just thank my lucky stars that I can't be seen by my soon-to-be classmates. As I get in the car, I groan at the fact that Charlie's going to have to drive me to school in the cruiser because I have no car.

"What?" Charlie asks when he hears me groan. He starts the car and we're on the move…to my new home. To my books that await me there. I grip the Jane Austen book I have in my hand, realizing I never put it away from the flight. The words that I can't see give me a type of courage to be more open.

I know my father, but I don't _know_ him. And maybe he doesn't know me, either. Maybe he wants to know me. I'm reminded of the smile I saw on his face when he saw I arrived. The smile had been filled with pride, acceptance, and sheer joy at my presence. I had never felt so loved, and so I hold on to the novel and that picture in my head as I speak.

"Are you taking me to school in this thing tomorrow?"

Charlie chuckles lightly and responds, "Why? Embarrassed to be seen with your old man?"

He knew it wasn't him, but the cruiser, that I was embarrassed about. I huffed and he just chuckled again and said, "We'll see, Bells. We'll see."

I take that as a yes, though I smile at his use of my name. He was the only person who called me "Bells." It was comforting in a way "Bella" or "Isabella" could never be. The name held a stigma of home, and I pretended that I could almost smell the name in the air. It's nice to pretend sometimes.

The car ride lasts about twenty minutes, and when we arrive I realize the house hasn't changed a bit. Everything, from the grass on the lawn to the fading paint was the same as it had been all my life. _Home_.

I walk through the door and it is as though I am walking into a memory. Memories of love and battles between my parents assault me. Tears spring to my eyes, but I simply walk past the living room and into the kitchen. Kitchens are where the heart and home are. Something about breaking bread…I shake my head, and regain my bearing. Now isn't the time for that kind of line of thought. Now is the time for getting settled.

I walk upstairs and Charlie is already waiting for me. He has his hands in his pocket and is standing stock still. He clears his throat before he speaks. Apparently he's as nervous as I was, and the fact makes me smile warmly at him. We're alike—kin spirits. Blood.

"So, I wasn't too sure what you liked so I figured that I'd go with simple. No bright red, or anything," he smiles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head.

"No, no. It's fine. Seriously…bright red would have been….bad" I finished lamely. I was trying to be reassuring, but I don't think I succeeded.

He laughs breathily, and I guess I was a success after all. The feeling is like a glow, knowing that I did something, not just right, but _good_.

"Okay, then. I'll leave you to it. Billy Black and his kid'll be coming around here soon, just a head's up," he stands by the door for a second more and then he's gone. He leaves me standing alone in a room that had changed, but not so much so that I don't recognize it.

There are little trinkets everywhere from my childhood over the years. There's a bookshelf that Charlie had clearly taken the liberty of putting all my books into – and there were _a lot_. I would have to rearrange them later to my liking, but it was the thought that counted.

I should start unpacking. I know I should, but the prospect of re-meeting people I barely remember makes me anxious. I still have Jane Austen in my hand.

I have a choice: I can set it down, swallow my anxiety and start unpacking, or I can throw myself on the bed, read some, do nothing productive, but in the end, be a calmer version of myself.

I choose the latter, but as I start reading…as the words jump to me with longing, I hope that one day I'll be able to choose the former. _One day_. But not today.

* * *

><p>An hour had passed when Charlie's voice vibrates through the house, calling me downstairs. I go to stand by the window for a moment to take in the visitors from afar.<p>

Billy Black is in a wheelchair laughing at something Charlie is saying. There is a rustic truck next to them, and then…

There is _him_. His face is one moment looking at Charlie speak, and the next it's upturned. His eyes stare right back at me, and I gasp quietly.

Jane Austen falls from my hands.

My breathing accelerates, and I feel a pull at my navel. It's strong, fierce. _I_ feel strong and fierce. It's a drastic and sudden change to how I normally feel. It's too drastic. I know, instinctually, that the feelings aren't mine. But if they aren't mine, whose would they be, I rationalize. I try to shake my head and ground myself in reality, but I don't _want_ to move. Not yet, when his gaze is roving up my body.

It's fire. I am on fire…God, how is fire this good? I need to pull myself together, but I feel my body tense in expectation…expectation of what? I'm going crazy, I'm sure. But _he _licks his lips and I grip at the edge of the window sill. I want him, and I have never wanted anyone before.

I have never wanted outside of my precious books.

My book! The panic that I feel at not holding a novel brings me down from my momentary high. I look down, and there it is: on the floor, lonely. I'm lonely too…but that isn't true anymore is it. There is this _pull_ (what is it?). This ache in my chest tells me I'm not alone. This fire in my veins tells me I'll never be alone ever again.

I want to run. I want to crawl under my bed until the foreign feelings leave and never come back. I walk downstairs purposefully slow, but I trip once anyway. I walk out the open front door and face everyone. I face _him_, and the urge to throw myself at him and wrap my legs around his waist almost overwhelms me. I almost whimper, but I catch myself. I clench my thighs together and blush, instead.

"Hey, Bells. You remember Billy and Jacob?" Charlie attempts a casual re-introduction. I try to focus, but…God, I want him. What is _wrong_ with me? This need is so sudden, and full.

"Yea, of course. How are you?" I try to focus on Billy, but my body leans towards Jacob. That's his name. _Jacob_. Doesn't look like any Jacob I've ever seen…

"Good, Good. Still kicking," Billy jokes.

"Hey," Jacob says. His voice is smooth. Dominant. _Mine. _No, that's not right. I'm so worried I'm going crazy. I want to sit and pray for a second, but there's no time. Billy and Charlie resume their joking, and Jacob takes a step towards me. My breath speeds up. I want him to touch me. I want to vomit. I don't know him. Not really.

The pull lurches and I stumble. He grabs me, so I don't fall, and I can't help the almost inaudible moan that escapes me. His hands tighten on my arms, and my hands clutch at his shirt. I realize he's massive, and yet it's not daunting.

_Mine_. No! Not mine, I remind myself.

"I got you," he whispers, and I believe him in _so many_ ways.

"Bells! Like the truck?" Charlie interrupts. His eyes narrow a little, but Jacob doesn't let me go, and I don't step away from his arms. The pull is at ease. The ache in my chest doesn't throb. The pulsing in my body is less. How do people survive this wanting?

"The truck?" I ask, confused. I want to care. I do. But I can't. Not when I'm not nearly as close to Jacob as I want to be. Not when the heat from his body wraps around me so solidly.

"Yea. Just bought it off Billy here" Charlie smiles. The hope in his eyes shines, and I want to care. I _do_. I try.

"Wait – for me?" I smile at him, surprised. It's genuine, the worry of my sanity forgotten. I won't have to go to school in the cruiser tomorrow.

"Jacob rebuilt the engine, himself" Billy boasts proudly of his son. Charlie's smile drops as he notices that we haven't let each other go.

"Uhh, okay kids. How 'bout we go inside and watch that Mariners game?" Charlie starts to walk forward, taking Billy's wheelchair as he goes. The message was clear: Jacob and I were to go inside too.

"Be right in, Charlie. Just need to show her some tricks with the clutch" Jacob speaks to Charlie's back, but he never turns his eyes away from me.

_Breathe, Bella. Breathe_, I coach myself, but I feel like it's not working.

"Are you okay?" Jacob asks me. Something in his voice tells me it's more than a question; he _needs_ to know that I'm okay.

"Yea, _yes_. I'm okay. Just…" I trail off. The truth is too much, too soon. The truth doesn't even make sense to me.

"I know," Jacob whispers huskily. He moves his hands up my arms and I shiver. I believe him when he says he does know. I feel a tremor leave his body and I move closer to him.

"Are you alright?" I ask him. I _need_ to know that he's alright. The imperatives that are assaulting me one by one are abrupt and foreign. These imperatives—I'm convinced that I must be going crazy. I'm forgetting something, though. What could I—my book! Where is it? Did I leave it?

I'm starting to hyperventilate.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" Jacob tries to soothe me, but I can tell my panic is increasing his panic. I try to calm myself down, but I want my book.

"M—my book. I—I think I left it" I finally get out. He doesn't understand what the significance is, but I can see the empathy in his eyes.

"It's okay. Just—just hold on to me," he says. He moves forward, and there's less than a few centimeters in between us.

"So, you start school tomorrow. Excited?" Jacob attempts to distract me. It's his breath fanning my face more than his words that distract me long enough to gain some semblance of control.

"Not really. Nervous. I'm not exactly a social butterfly," I joke at my own expense. I see a wry smile grace his lips – the pull tightens and I feel heat spread through my body. That smile increases my heartbeat. It's as though he can hear my heartbeat, his smile grows smugly.

I look away. It's too intense. _Too much. Too soon_. I don't know him…but I want him _so much_, I can feel the need cripple me almost.

"God help all the men in forks if you _were_ a social butterfly. Can you imagine Charlie having to lock up half the population for asking you out?" Jacob teases. I roll my eyes, but my hand still itches to seek out more of his skin, and my subconscious is still grappling about my book.

"Oh sure, I can picture it now. They ask me out and I make them eat mud pies because I'm _so cool_," I laugh. I'll be lucky if I escape my first day of school unscathed.

"You know, we used to make mud pies together," Jacob says it like some kind of invitation.

"Yea, I remember," I lie badly, only to realize I _did_ remember. It's a shock to my system because I didn't realize I had remembered until he said it. I change the subject, "Do you go to Forks High?"

He shakes his head in the negative. I feel disappointment grip me, but I try to fight it off. He isn't _mine_. I barely know him. Attraction does not equal sudden obsession.

"No," he starts, "but I've got some connections, being the future Chief and all. I'm sure I could pull some strings and get you into the Rez School."

His words are lazy and there is a self-indulgent lilt to his voice that makes me smile unrepentantly, but there's a serious undertone. He'd prefer if I was at the reservation school.

"No, it's cool," I say. "It just would've been nice to know at least one person, that's all."

That wasn't all, my body screams at me. I want him near, I want him surrounding me. I feel safe, secure, and strong.

There's a pensive look on his face while I enjoy the feeling of being in his arms. I've kissed two boys in my whole life, and there had never been this level of comfort and ease that I seem to have with Jacob. But, simultaneously, there was tension and overwhelming need gripping us both—I can see it in the way his body leans to have me pressed fully against him and then he subtly pulls back, conscious of the unconscious action.

"What are you thinking about so hard? Not the clutch is it?" I tease, making a mockery of the poor excuse he gave Charlie ten minutes ago.

"I actually should show you how to use that clutch," he smirks, "it can be tricky to handle if done without instruction. You like taking instructions, right Bella?" His voice is husky and sensual. My body lights up in an instant. All the ease from before is gone and I'm sure I'm blushing _everywhere_.

I unconsciously push my body against his, and he's no longer smirking. His eyes are dark and engulfing me. I want to drown in them and be reborn into an assertive woman who could take him against this truck without restraint. I blush even brighter at my thoughts.

"_Fuck_, Bella," Jacob pushes back against me. I feel his need for me. The contact makes me dizzy so I raise my hands to grip his shoulders for balance. The action can't bring me closer than before because I was already flush against him. His thighs, his chest, his stomach—I feel everything.

I want him to kiss me, but he doesn't. He takes a couple steadying breathes and then pulls away slightly. Rejection creeps into my bones.

"_No_," he says fiercely and I look up sharply at him. "I want you, Bella. Don't think I don't. I just—this is a small enough town. You don't need the kind of reputation that would come from me ravishing you in front of your lawn."

I look away, and feel a need to defend him—to defend us.

"It's just a kiss, and who cares what anyone thinks? They're not us, and they're not our parents. People are always going to talk," I impart my limited knowledge. I learned that bit from Renee; She was always doing crazy things, and she never cared what anyone said. As a child, you learn shame the first time you encounter a derisive comment, and someone had called my mother a ditz. Being a shy, quiet child, I had felt the shame more acutely than if I had been an outgoing child who could brush things off with distractions.

I had asked Renee what a ditz meant, and she had said, "A ditz is a word that busy bodies use. They have no proof for any real gossip so they try to attack a person's character. Let me be clear Bella: you can do everything right in life and people will still talk because they're busy bodies bored with their life with nothing better to do!"

I never forgot that lesson—strange the things that stay with you. But I was grateful for his foresight, simply to avoid the spotlight. I don't care if people gossip, but I don't like the thought of all the looks—going under the radar would be near impossible.

Jacob's chuckle pulls me from my memory and thoughts.

"No, Bella," he pulls my body back to his. His ragged breath ruffles my hair and my arousal. "It would have been _much_ more than a kiss. I know you can feel how much I want you right now."

And I do feel how much he wants me; his need is hard against my stomach. It should scare me, this being the first time I've ever been in this situation, but it doesn't. His need only escalates my own, and I feel like I'm on a rollercoaster—up and down with our emotions. One second we are hot, and the next we're cold.

I realize my own breathes are just as ragged as his. I nod my head.

"I'm a possessive man, Bella," Jacob says, and my mind reels. I don't know where he's going to go with this but my pull is already jumping for joy. My pull is coiling, ready to be acknowledged.

"Okay…" I say. I don't know what else to say. This is all so much, yet not enough.

"I don't share what I consider mine," his lips lift slightly at the corners. "And if I kiss you, you're _mine_. I don't want another guy looking at you, let alone _touching_ you."

_Mine_. The word triggers something deep inside me. I want to be his. The logical part of my brain says that I don't really know him, but the rest of me says I know everything I need to.

"And…what if we don't kiss? Am I still yours?" I ask timidly. I want to be dominate and assertive, but I can only choose one or the other without my book in my hand giving me strength; maybe one day, but not today.

"Do you want to be?" It sounds like the question is being dragged from him; like he's forcing himself to ask. I empathize with his struggle.

"Yes," I say without preamble or wait. It's the truth in a way so many things lack. I _do_ want to be his even though it's not logical, and I'm half convinced I've lost most of my sanity. Nothing else matters except that I want him fervently, deeply, _now. _ I know it can't be healthy. I'll have to work on that.

"You say 'yes,' but you don't _know_," Jacob starts but I push my body completely against his. I dig my nails into his shoulder and bury my head in the crook of his neck. I rub myself against him—I need the contact. To feel his need for me is gratifying and consuming.

"I don't _need_ to know," I whisper. It's another truth. So many truths that are seemingly useless and meaningless.

"_Fuck_, _fuck,"_ Jacob repeats as he grinds his body against me. He pivots his body, taking me with him, so that I'm trapped against the truck door and Jacob. It's _so_ good. The course language he uses makes me blush, but it makes me feel sexy. I've never felt sexy before. I've never approved of foul language before either. I still don't, but his use of it is elevating.

"We can't go there, Bella. Not now," he pushes away and I whimper at the loss of contact. I know he's right. I know I should ask _what the hell is going on_, but I don't think I want to know. Not now. _Too soon_. I feel minor slivers of shame creep up my arms at my actions. He must think I'm some kind of floozy…but the look in his eyes says otherwise. The look in his eyes, as he lets his forehead fall on mine tells me that he's in this with me—he's feeling just as overwhelmed as I am.

"Okay," I try to get my bearings, "then what do we do?"

"We go inside, watch the game, and enjoy eating pizza. You know, less _intense_ things," Jacob laughs at our predicament, and I smile with him. I go to walk to the door, when he grabs my wrist.

"Umm, maybe I should actually show you that clutch issue for a second before we go inside," Jacob says seriously this time. Something's _off_ about the way he says it that I can't help but study him for a second.

"Oh!" I realize the problem, and I blush bright red. "Of course!" I say as I walk to open the driver's side door and attempt to avoid looking at Jacob's _need_ for some cool down time.

Jacob's laughter rings out loud and beautiful. He is beautiful. And I am _his_.

* * *

><p>"So, does Jacob do that a lot?" I ask Charlie when he comes back from dropping Billy off.<p>

"Do what?" He looks up at me from his beer. I stand by the living room, awkward. I want to crawl into a hole, but I had found my book sometime during the evening, so I feel better about being forward.

"Duck out early? I thought he was supposed to leave with Billy, but he seemed adamant that he had to be somewhere by six o'clock" I try to explain better, but I think Charlie thinks I'm just nosey…maybe I am just nosy. What right did I have to inquire about the habits of a guy—man—that I see once every few years?

But I'm _his_, I remind myself. That has to count for something.

"Yea, I guess he does leave a lot. Huh, I guess I never paid much attention. Teenagers don't exactly want to hang out with two old Chiefs." Charlie laughs it off, but I see the calculating look in his eyes. I know the question is coming, before he says it. "You have a thing for him?"

"A _thing_?" I sputter. I grip my novel harder.

"Yes, a _thing_. You know what I mean. He's a good looking kid," Charlie teases me.

"I don't know _what_ you're talking about! I—I _don't_ have a _thing_ for Jacob!" I brace myself for the interrogation, but it never comes. Charlie busts out laughing at my reaction, and I know that I'm beet red.

I didn't lie. I didn't have a _thing_ for Jacob. It was so much _more_. It was a _massive thing_ the size of the stars that make up the night sky.

"Bells," Charlie clears his throat. I know this is about to get awkward. "I like Jacob. He takes care of Billy real well, and…well, I like him; seen him grow up into a good man, so far. But you're my kid. So, as your dad, I need to tell you that gettin' a sweet spot for him probably ain't the best of ideas."

"Why?" I ask like whiplash, the words ripped out of me so fast. Breathe. Pause. Inhale. Pause. Exhale. Breathe.

"Because," he leans forward on his forearms. "I know you noticed that he ain't that same kid you saw three years ago. Hell, that's probably why you're interested in him now, but it ain't a good idea, is all. I won't _forbid_ you or anything. It's not something that serious, just a little caution. He's a good son, but I was a cop _long_ before you were born and I can smell when something ain't right. I've been hearin' some rumors about him being the leader of a gang. I haven't verified anything, especially since it's not my jurisdiction or business and as of yet him and his friends haven't caused any trouble, but I have eyes. I have eyes, and I don't want you mixed up in any of that, ya hear?"

I want to defend Jacob, but I _don't_ know what he is mixed up in. I don't know anything about him except that this _pull_ won't let up. I don't know anything except that his touch felt right—more right than anything I've ever felt before…more right than a book in my hand.

"I'll be careful," I promise. I can't fault Charlie for asking me to be safe, but as soon as I concede, I know that "safe" and "careful" are the last things I'm going to be. Just the thought of Jacob has my chest tightening in anticipation. As soon as the words leave my lips, I know they're a lie.

* * *

><p>I am walking and running. I am spinning and falling. Jacob's arms are around me, and he whispers words of passion to me. He says, "I need you," and "I want you."<p>

It's so much, _too much_, but I want him, too. I _need_ him, too. His words turn into kisses, and his kisses are everywhere. It feels like I'm flying, higher and higher.

Don't stop. _Please_ _don't stop_. Higher and higher. Faster and faster, I'm falling until—I'm awake, breathing like I've run a marathon.

It was all a dream. It was a dream like I've never had before, and I know I'm blushing beet red. The heat in my face is crushing. _Jacob_. This was his doing, I know it.

I know it's crazy, and it was only a _dream_…but I've never felt more beautiful.

* * *

><p>So what do you guys think? I'm attempting to give Bella a legitimate emotional attachment disorder to inanimate objects (her books in this case), since I figure it <em>would<em> explain some of her random erratic behavior throughout _Twilight_. Throughout the _Twilight _saga she seemed very attached to her novels, and viewed them realistically (which is why, I posit, she ends up romanticizing her relationship with Edward, especially in _New Moon_ and _Eclipse_). I did try not to go too overboard with it, since I only want it to be one facet of this story.

Anyway, Liked it? Hated it? Let me know and Review! **Reviews are love**


	2. In Too Deep

Disclaimer – I own nothing.

A.N. – Wow! The response that I have gotten has been amazing. You are all amazing! I was planning on posting next month, but your response seriously inspired me, and the words just flew out of me. It also helped that I got a lot of work done last night, so I had some time today to write. Anywho, hope everyone enjoys!

To **corkykellems**, **KrittleTwilighted**, **Willowstar23**, **funnechick**, **laugh0ften2012**, **RoseMarieCraves**, **Guest (2)**, **sweetsouthernsongbird**, **booklovur217**, **Guest (1)**: Thanks sooo much for all your kind words! I am so happy that all of you guys weren't put off by the attachment disorder I gave Bella, and that it made sense to you. Seriously¸ reviews are love, so you guys rock!

Also, I, of course, would like to thank all those who followed, and favorited (even if you never reviewed). Just knowing that others read and enjoy my story enough to fav/follow is a wonderful feeling! Anwyho, on to the show! Hope everyone enjoys this chapter! :)

_/I will be here when you think you're all alone, seeping through the cracks;_

_I'm the poison in your bones, my love is your disease;_

_I won't let it set you free till I break you._

_You'll never know what hit you/_

_-_The Devil Within, Digital Daggers

Chapter 2 – In Too Deep

The morning flies by fast—faster than love on the wings of butterflies. I keep picturing Jacob, but it only serves to make my father believe I have a fever. I convince him I don't, but I know I have to ground myself before I get to school. _School_.

I'm nervous, but beneath the nerves is a fire. This _heat_ burns, and I'm snippy. I don't mean to be, but it's so hard.

I jump out of the truck, and I feel the eyes on me—they bore holes into my insecure soul…but I'm beautiful, aren't I? I felt beautiful last night. I still feel some kind of beautiful, and it calms the heat.

This fire, I know it isn't mine. I don't have anything to feel angry about...at least, I don't think so. Maybe I do. Who else would this feeling belong to?

I'm going crazy, for sure.

"Hey, you're Isabella, right?" an Asian boy with a big smile runs up to me.

"Bella, yea," I give him a small smile. I'm still trying to control the foreign fire inside.

"I'm Ben!" he says as he ushers me into the school. He introduces me to a girl named Angela, and her smile is so welcoming that perhaps...today might not be so bad.

I don't have class with Ben, but Angela has English with me and she introduces me to a girl named Jessica. She is the complete opposite of Angela. Where Angela is sweet and unassuming, Jessica is a force to keep up with. Normally, I would feel uncomfortable, but her _extra_ fits perfectly for my fire. My fire burns. The class is long, but goes without incident.

Next class is – _oh no_ – gym. When the class ends we all start to file out, like miserable soldiers.

"I'm in gym with you, c'mon," Jessica says as she grabs me by the arm. Apparently everyone thinks I'm incapable of movement on my own—_whoa_. It's the fire. Certain times throughout the day so far I've felt it spike.

Gym is a nuisance and I attack a lot of people, trying to play Volleyball badly. I hit a boy named Mike, and he gives me _that _look. But I'm _Jacob's_…right? _His. Mine. _

It's the pull again, tugging and tugging. It's looking for _him_, but he's not here. I shake my head, and try to get through gym class without any more disasters.

Lunch is an affair. Angela and Jessica introduce me to Tyler and Lauren. Lauren is aloof and slightly mean spirited, but I figure I'll stay clear of her if I can help it—_fire! _It burns hard, and I breathe deeply so as to not attract anyone's attention.

Everyone is rattling on, smiling at me and asking me questions. I focus on the questions instead of the heat, but it's so hard. The anger is building, and I don't know why. It's not mine, I know it. I know it, I'm not crazy. I can't be crazy…unless I am.

"Who are they?" I ask, as I try to focus on _anything_ else besides the fire and the pull. I grip my textbook, trying to stay grounded. I'm okay, I'm okay.

"They're the Cullens," Jessica gushes. "They're all adopted but _together,_ together."

The closer they walk towards me, the less okay I am. I'm _so_ not okay.

Jessica points them all out to me: Jasper and Alice, Rosalie and Emmet, and Edward.

"No sister for him?" I joke, but it's just a ruse to get the fire out of me. Everyone laughs, even Lauren, and I realize that I might understand her a bit; if Lauren walks around with _this_ kind of heat inside of her all the time, then it's no wonder she's a bit mean spirited.

I look towards the Cullens and Edward is glaring at me. His eyes are trained on me like a hunter, and I feel that fierceness inside of me. It wants to rise to the surface and tell him—dare him—to try something.

But I've always been the passive type, and this new wildness inside of me is making me off balance.

"Don't bother," Jessica says. I look sharply to her, and she nods her head towards Edward. "No one's good enough for him. Been here a year, and hasn't dated anyone."

"Oh, no, I wasn't—" I start to deny her assumption, but the idea that I would want anything to do with any of the Cullens—I don't know why, but it rubs me the wrong way. I'm sitting extremely stiff, and I'm stuttering because I'm trying not to tremble in _fire_.

"It's cool, if you have a thing for him, Bella. He is hot," Angela cuts in. They must think that I'm an idiot, but that word…

"I _don't_ have a _thing_ for Edward Cullen" I say as we all pack up and head out of the cafeteria. I turn my head and Edward is still glaring.

I stop by the lockers with Angela and Jessica—Mike and Lauren already headed off to biology. Tyler mentioned something about hooking up with some sophomore girl, but I hadn't been paying too much attention at the time. There's so much heat building up, up, up…I make an excuse and rush into the girls bathroom and into a stall. _Breathe. Calm down. Breathe._

I wonder where Jacob is, and what he's doing. The fire calms for a moment, and I think that maybe there's something to this madness—_my_ madness.

I rush out when the bell rings, and follow Jessica and Angela to biology. Everyone takes their seats and I'm left standing by the fan, waiting for the biology teacher to tell me where to go. He's a nice man with a kind smile, but the fan is blowing, and my nerves are getting to me with everyone staring at me.

It's too much. _Breathe._ I grip my textbook and try at a smile to distract from my heavy internal panic attack.

"Want to tell us something about yourself, Isabella?" He asks, not unkindly, but I want to claw and scratch at him. The fire is all mine right now. No. That's not right, I've never wanted to cause anyone harm. _Focus. Just stay focused_.

"Bella, and no. Not really." I let out a dry laugh, and everyone laughs with me. He chuckles lightly, and sends me to sit next to Edward Cullen.

The imperative to shirk back is so strong that my knuckles are white from holding on to my textbook so hard—I'm trying to ground myself, but the fire, _the fire_.

I walk hesitantly towards Edward and the closer I get, the further he moves away from me with a look akin to disgust. _What is his problem?_ I want to yell, but frankly, what is mine? I'd never met or heard of him a day in my life, and yet there was this aversion to him automatically. The fire raged at the mere thought of Edward next to me. Anywhere near me.

The class went on and on, and Edward never moved from his uncomfortable position. Finally, the class ends and Mike is at my side asking me if I need a ride home. I decline, but walk out of school with everyone else.

Lauren and Tyler are talking quietly, Jessica is squeeling about something or other with Angela and me (though I'm not listening), and Mike and Ben are waving their arms around, about something manly, probably. Everything is moving around me, but then I see Jacob, _Jacob_, standing by my truck on his motorcycle, and the fire dissipates to a simmer.

The fire may be gone, but the pull is stronger than ever. It tugs and tugs, and all I hear is—

"Whoa, who is _that_ hunk?" Jessica asks to no one. She doesn't know that's my truck he's standing next to. She doesn't _know_, but she will.

"_That_ is _mine_" I say aggressively, but try to tone it down with a smile. Lauren looks at me, and nods her head a couple of times. We understand the _fire_, I think. Mike looks a little downtrodden, but the pull takes me away from him and before I think I jump into Jacob's arms.

I breathe him in slowly, and raggedly. He breathes me in just as deeply. Jacob runs his hands over the length of my backside, lower back, upper back, and hair. He's touching me, and _did ever anyone want as much as us?_ My hands are roving the muscles on his shoulder and neck, and running through his hair.

"Hey" I manage to get out in a whisper. His heat sinks through my bones. The chill I had felt all day, and hadn't even known it, was gone.

"Hey" he lightly chuckles and kisses my forehead. It was barely anything, but if he pressed more I'm sure my body would go crazy, I need to feel him so badly.

"I'm pretty sure that we just witnessed live soft core porn," Lauren says. I turn and look at them all, standing and staring – the Cullens too, behind them, by their car—and I blush furiously. I tuck my head down in an effort to disappear; I had never been one for public displays of affection. Heck, I'd never been much for anything, before.

"Just wanted to make sure my girl had a good first day," Jacob smiles at everyone. There's an undertone of warning that I don't understand, but it's there. I hear it, and know it like I know the fire that is inside of me.

"Don't sweat it, man. We took care of her," Tyler answers. I barely spoke two words to Tyler, but apparently he _took care of_ me. Maybe it's a guy thing. Lauren, Jessica, and Angela roll their eyes while Mike and Ben nod in agreement—yea, definitely a guy thing. I smile, knowing that Jacob can feel the stretch of my lips against his neck.

"Well, we should leave you guys to it. It was nice meeting you…" Angela realizes she doesn't know his name, and waits for Jacob to fill it in for her.

"Jacob," he responds smoothly. I notice that he doesn't give her his hand—that would mean letting go of me, and if he feels the pull like I do…

"I'm Angela, this is Jessica, Lauren, Mike, Ben, and Tyler" Angela gives out names and points them all out. I step back a tiny bit, so as to not seem rude. The pull tugs lightly, but I won't let it control me. I can't let it. _Pull_. Why did no one ever warn me about this kind of emotion?

Idle chit chat goes on around me, but I feel someone glaring at me—at _us_. I turn my head, and the entire Cullen clan is watching us. Goosebumps crawl up my arms, and Jacob looks at me swiftly. Rage, like I've never felt it, sweeps through me and around me. It whips my hair in the wind, and the fire is _good_. But the feeling is squashed as soon as it arrives, and I'm left wondering if I ever felt it at all. _I'm not crazy, I'm not. _

Everyone disperses and Jessica makes a motion for me to call her. I laugh, one good laugh from the gut—we never exchanged numbers.

"How was your day, really?" Jacob whispers to me. I wonder if I should mention the fire. I wonder if he'll think I'm crazy, but then I look into his eyes and gravity falls apart for a moment—I am weightless.

"It was cool. Less awkward than I was imagining, but still embarrassing." I smile shyly at him. He makes me bold…I realize that I _threw_ myself at him—_oh God_, I _threw_ myself at him!

"What was so embarrassing?" He asks teasingly. He already knows I'm mortified with my own lack of self-control. But I can't forget that he made me feel beautiful. I still feel some kind of beautiful under his gaze.

I shove him playfully away, but the pull doesn't understand that it's a joke—I would _never_ want Jacob away.

Never is a long time. I barely know him.

The pull claws at me and my hands fly to my chest, but before I can make a spectacle of myself, Jacob lays his hand on the center of my chest. His hands are slightly calloused, and his heat burns into my flesh, but it's _good_. The pull doesn't snap and break; it relaxes, and I relax with it.

"Hey, hey, we're good, honey. We're okay" he soothes, and maybe the fire burns him too. Maybe the pull tugs him too. Or maybe I've lost my mind.

"Did you skip class?" I ask him, realizing that he actually is _here_ and the reservation school lets out at the same time. I frown slightly—I'm too familiar. He might hate my presumptuous nature, but I'm his, right? That has to mean I have certain privileges…

"The walls were caving in on me," he nods, and sighs. There's a world in his eyes, storming and fighting—there is so much that I don't know, and yet, _I know him_.

"I know the feeling," I try to empathize. It's a lie, but one that I'm sure he needs to hear. The walls hadn't caved in on me today; instead, the fire had been trying to burn me from the inside out.

"So, what were you saying about not being a social butterfly?" Jacob leans away from me and I adjust my bag.

"Must be all the rain, brings out the Rebecca Sharp in me" I roll my eyes.

A pause. It springs insecurity up inside me, and I'm itching for my books. Maybe he'll think I'm a nerd, and won't get the refere—

"_Vanity Fair_? Really?" He smirks, and I'm curious. I go to ask him when he read the _novel_ _without a hero_, but he beats me to the question and says, "Saw the movie, and that was _way_ more than what I bargained for, too."

The way he said it, and the look on his face, makes me positive that he had hated it. I can't help but smile; I'm smiling so wide that the laugh lines on my face feel the stretch, too. He smiles back at me, and his smile engulfs mine in a universe made up of smiles and laughter. _Mine_. No. I'm his, but he never said he's mine. _Mine_, the ache declares—okay…for now.

"So, headed home?" he asks, but his eyes are somewhere else. They are looking far into the forest, and I wonder what he sees that I don't. I wonder, but don't ask—it's none of my business.

"Yea, you?"

"Yea. I was nowhere near the neighborhood, but thought I'd catch you and make sure I don't have to beat anyone up for messing with the newbie," He jokes. His eyes swivel to me, and I know that he would beat up _everyone_ for me.

"Well…you can…_catch me_…anytime" I say timidly—the fire in my face burns like molten lava. I shouldn't be so forward, but he shouldn't inspire so much _want_ inside of me, either.

"Be careful what you wish for," he moves forward and shoves his hands into my hair. He breathes deeply, and a small growl courses through his frame. "_Catching_ you is all I want to do, right now, last night, yesterday, all the _damn_ time since I laid eyes on you," he whispers roughly.

"Hey, hey" I run my hands across his cheek , to his neck, and back again. "I'm right here. I-I'm _right_ here." The words are torn from me. I don't know where the words came from, or why they sound so right, but I don't deny them or fight them. He _needs_ to hear them, I know he does.

"Sure, sure" he says and nods. He shakes his head a bit and lets out a dry laugh, "guess we should go our separate ways."

The pull doesn't like the idea, but I won't be controlled. I am not a lovesick puppy—we just re-met! I find myself inviting him over anyway.

"I wish I could, but I've got some things to handle over on the rez," he declines. I know the disappointment shows on my face, so I turn my face to look anywhere but him.

My eyes land on the Cullens who haven't moved an inch—staring at us. I don't like it. I naturally want to squirm, but the fire still simmers and it won't let me look away. The fire pulls my face into a glare—_Cullen's. Enemy_, it says to me, but that can't be.

I'm not crazy, I'm not.

"It's cool," I lie. It's not cool, this space that I feel in my body where I know he's supposed to be. I want him, _deeply_.

"How about I pick you up tomorrow morning and drop you off, and swing by after school to take you home? If you don't mind being a little early—I can't exactly afford any more lateness' myself" he smiles sheepishly.

It's such a boyish look on his face that I feel thrown and young with him. I smile and nod my head eagerly, too eagerly, and I try to tone it down but I know he sees the shine in my eyes. I know he can see through me, I _know_.

"Yea, that's—that's great! _Perfect_, actually," I say honestly. I get to start my day with him, and finish it with him. My body heats up at the prospects that loom and I blush at my own sudden nature. The pull isn't barking at me, and the fire isn't going crazy, and yet I feel so unbalanced and wonderful with Jacob's arms still around me.

"Great!" he smiles wide. I smile back. It's natural and honest in a world filled with artifice.

* * *

><p>The next morning I wake up extra early. I take extra care to look nice, but I wonder if I still look plain. I worry if I look overdone, or….too many anxieties assault me, and I can only breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. <em>Oh no! <em>The fire!

I know the fire doesn't belong to me, just like I knew yesterday, but something about it isn't foreign. Something about the fire feels ingrained in me-like it was there all along, and I just discovered it.

"Bells!" Charlie yells from downstairs. "Jacob's here."

My heart lurches. _Pull_. I resist for a moment. I won't be a puppet to my emotions. I can't be a puppet to my emotions, but the fire burns low, and the pull tugs so hard. It wants him. I want him.I can't resist any longer, and frankly, I don't want to. The hours in the night had fled by, and now it feels as though I had gone to sleep with Jacob's heat still on me, and woken up cold. Alone. Vulnerable.

I grab my book bag and my favorite Jane Austen novel, and head downstairs carefully. I don't want to trip, but the thought of tripping and falling into Jacob's arms makes blood rush to my face. I trip anyway, and stumble through the last few steps. I must look like a tomato, but I eagerly turn towards the kitchen.

I know Jacob is in there. _I know_. And he is. He sits there, smiling, leaning on his forearms on the kitchen table, completely relaxed. He looks like the sun.

"Hey," I say slightly breathlessly. He stole the breath from me. He stole it, and I wish that I had known him before forks. _Truly_ known him, not simply as a childhood friend that I barely remembered once I left the confines of Forks. I wish fervently, for a moment, that he could steal my breath away for the rest of my life.

_No!_ We barely know each other. _Pull_. The pull tells me that I know all I'll ever need to know. But logic saves me from myself. Dealing with this fire and inside-pull-it feels like it's too much. Perhaps I should talk to Renee. She'll explain to me why she never mentioned these types of feelings, and why I'm feeling them now.

"Hey," he says. His baritone fills me completely, and I want him. The want is sudden and ferocious and overwhelming. My blush takes over my entire body, and I am aflame is _so many ways_.

Jacob must see the want in my eyes, because his eyes smolder in response. He stands, walks over to me, and whispers, "how'd you sleep?"

He must be trying to reign it all in. I can sense that we're both too close to some invisible edge. We're both too close.

"Umm...good. Real good," I whisper back, but the blush doesn't disappear. How am I going to survive wanting him like this?

"Uhh, okay guys," Charlie interrupts, clearly awkward with our intensity. "You guys better get a move on before you start running late."

Jacob and I both smile at Charlie's discomfort. The smiles seem to replace our desire, and suddenly I can breathe. I can breathe, and I hadn't noticed that I couldn't before.

"Lead the way," I say to Jacob. Jacob puts his hand at the small of my back and ushers me toward the front door.

He yells out a quick "see ya later, Charlie," which reminds me that I completely ignored Charlie just now. I shout, "Bye, dad!" and just like that we're out the door. But in front of us are two options – His bike or my truck.

I like the idea of holding him in my arms, letting the wind whip past my hair – it sounds like my perfect version of freedom. But then we wouldn't be able to talk. Jacob must be thinking the same thing because he suggests my truck.

"Only thing is, if we take your truck, I'll have to take it with me to the rez," he says, but he's already opening the passenger door for me.

"It _was_ yours first. I'm sure you'll take good care of it," I smile timidly. I want to say that I trust him implicitly, but I don't know. _Too much. Too soon_.

"I'll treat it like a queen," he says huskily, and I'm sure that we're no longer talking about the truck. The fire in me bubbles _so good_, and the pull tugs and tugs. It wants me in his arms, but I can't let myself be ruled, and so I bite my lip. I bite, and Jacob's hand lifts and tugs it out.

Heat like I've never known before assaults me, and my breathing speeds up. He must feel the heat too, because he groans lightly.

"We can't start something right now, Bella," he breathes out. "Because if we do, neither of us are gonna make it to class."

There's fire in his eyes. There's a volcano waiting, waiting, waiting, and I want to know his fire _so bad_. I want to feel what he feels, but I know that this isn't the time or the place. I look away, ashamed that, if given a few moments more, I _would_ throw myself at him just as I had every time we've seen each other so far.

"Sorry," I mumble and blush.

"You blush a lot," Jacob notes and pulls out the driveway.

I can see Charlie looking out the window at us. There's a worry in his eyes that I know I put there, but I can't find it in me to care. I want to. I do. But, after feeling this fire, how could I not want more?

"Hazard of being so pale, I guess," I nod and smile self-deprecatingly.

"I like it," he maneuvers the car the way he seems to do everything: effortlessly.

"I look like a tomato!" I laugh. It's a good feeling and I wonder if I could always feel like this.

"Good thing I love tomatoes" he smirks, but there's something in me…a _knowing_.

"Do you really?" I look at him inquiringly. I don't know why I need to ask, but I do. He looks away from the road for a second and I'm wrapped up in eyes made of the darkest gold, the purest passion.

"No," he shakes his head. "Not really. But I _do_ like you flushed. I like that it's for me."

He shrugs, but there's an honesty to his words that he can't mask. _Pull_, and suddenly I'm over on his side of the truck.

Jane Austen falls from my lap.

My hands touch his arm, and it's like he's on fire he feels so feverish. Perhaps the fire burns him inside out too. Perhaps he's just farther along than I am. _Insane. Crazy_. No. I'm not crazy. I feel it, deep within me, that he burns bright for me.

"It is…for you," I whisper, and I hope it's not too much. _Too much. Too soon_. But I don't want to lie. I _can't_ lie. I don't want him to doubt that this, whatever _this_ is, is for him. _Mine_.

He guns into the school parking lot and swiftly parks in a few moments. He gets out of the truck, walks to my side, and opens the door. Insecurity springs up inside me. Maybe I am crazy, and alone in this. Maybe I had been too forward. Maybe— where's my book? I feel my chest tightening slowly, the anxiety working its way up, inside me. I could have sworn that I had brought it—oh. It's on the floor. Alone. Just like I feel.

But that's not true. Even now, I don't feel alone. I feel _fire_ and _pull_ and _want_ like I've never imagined. Even now.

I grab my bag and Jane Austen, and turn my body to get out but he doesn't move out my way. My legs dangle on the outside of the car. I feel assertiveness grip me and I get out of the truck.

I slide down into the small space between Jacob and the truck. My body glides against his as I come down, and I can hear his breath, ragged.

He raises both hands and lets them find their place in my hair. I can't look away.

He tugs on my hair lightly, and all I feel is a massive _pulse_ throughout my entire body. _Do it again. Please. _I want to beg, but no! I am not ruled by—_please_.

I'm going crazy in _so many ways_, and suddenly Jacob is kissing my forehead. I want more. So much more, and so does he. I _know_ like I've never known anything else before.

"_Fuck!_" he whispers harshly. "You have _no idea_ how much you set me off."

I press my body closer. More. I need more. Of what? _Anything_. _Everything_.

The pull is completely at ease, and the fire doesn't bother me with its presence. This is all me. Him. _Us_.

"So… what are you going to do about it?" I say breathlessly. I'm not usually so forward, but I'm gripping Jane Austen like my life depends on it. _Mine_.

He takes a huge calming breath and says, "Absolutely nothing, because we're in an open parking lot."

The reminder awakens my senses. I'm completely mortified, and I jump back but there's nowhere to go. I look around us and once again see the Cullens and my newly made friends sneaking glances at us.

"There's that blush," he chuckles, and it calms me. I smile shyly. I'm his, right? What does it matter that others know it too.

I remind him that he doesn't want to be late, and he touches my neck softly. He concedes that he should go and turns away from me. The pull doesn't like it, being so far away from him, but I stand slightly rigid. I won't be controlled.

I see him pause, and I look to where he's looking. He's staring at the Cullens, and _Fire_ burns me. _Disgust and hate_ unlike anything I've ever felt hits me. It tramples over my emotions, clawing at my chest, and just as suddenly it's gone.

He continues his walk to the driver's side. The wind shuffles and the drizzle begins to fall.

"Do you have any classes with any of the Cullens?" he asks me from over the hood of the truck.

"Umm…yea. One or two, I think. Why?" I ask. I know I have biology with Edward, for sure. I'm not quite sure about any other yet, I'd only been in class one full day.

"Me and the _Cullens_," he speaks slowly. "have a long standing issue. I'd feel better if you steered clear of them," he shrugs nonchalantly, like it's no big deal either way to him.

He's anything but nonchalant. His shoulders are tense and his muscles flex lightly. I don't tell him that I want nothing to do with the Cullens. Instead, I say, "Consider it already done."

I'm his. I want him to know, not just in a physical sense. But I don't know him, I have to remind myself. Not really. But…

He is the sun, shining, bright, overpowering, as he smiles at me. He waves at Jessica and the gang, gets into the vehicle, and leaves just as suddenly as he was here.

I am left, wanting, pining, with this _pull_, but there is a comfort in knowing that he'll be back. Just seven more hours to go.

I turn and walk towards Jessica. As soon as I reach her, she pounces.

"Oh my god, Bella! You're dude is seriously hot!"

Her words make me laugh, and I nod my head timidly, because, _really_, he truly was "seriously hot!"

_Mine_. Yea, I guess he is mine, too. But he never said he was mine. _Mine_. I think of his touch, and look into myself for a second. The inner-knowing that I've discovered within me. Maybe, this is what becoming a woman is all about.

This revelation puts a secret smile on my face the rest of the day, as I wait, wait, wait, for his return.

* * *

><p>Sooo? What do you guys think? I tried to add another layer to the JB Imprinted dynamic, so let me know what you think, and how it worked for you guys! Did you even notice the extra layer? Was it _too_ subtle? Not enough? Anywho, liked it? Hated it? Let me know and review!


	3. Higher and Higher

Disclaimer – I own Nothing.

A.N. – Thank you all sooooo much for all of your kind words! Seriously, I'm floored at the response this story has gotten! I know this story might be going a little slow for some, but I really want to try and develop the story along with the characters. I want there to be growth, and for that to happen, some aspects have to go slowly. But, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter as much as the last two, and don't forget to Review! :)

**Note: I will be posting a Jacob/Bella fan video on youtube soon. My name on Youtube is LoverGurrl411 (just like here). Feel free to check out my other videos, and show some love there! :D **

**To TiffaniW**, **Guest (1)**, **booklovur217**, **echo58**, **sweetsouthernsongbird**, **corkykellems**, **Teresa**, **lunasheart**, **Guest (2)**, **Anonfan101**, **twin268**, **cullenfan5**, **Nightshadekiller**, **Me**, **Jooheika**: I sincerely want to thank you guys from the heart. I seriously never update so many times in one month, but your kinds words have inspired me.

Also, an awesome thank you to all who have followed, favorite, or simply read silently. I know some might think it's not much, but it really means something to me that you guys take the time out of your busy schedules to read my work.

/_If you ever need me, just tell me and I'll be there. _

_Cause I was built for you, yes, I was built to carry all your feelings._

_Cause I won't let them know; I won't let you go, baby._

_I don't care what your past is, I don't need no answers, just have faith in me_

_Don't you know your secret's safe with me/_

-Safe With Me, Sam Smith

Chapter 3 – Higher and Higher

"Mom, I think I'm going crazy!" I confide to my mother. It's been two weeks since Jacob started picking me up in the mornings and dropping me home after school.

It's been two weeks almost, but every time I see him, I feel as though it's the first time. My limbs quiver, the fire burns bright like the North Star, and the pull tugs ferociously. After two weeks of warring with the pull and the fire, I finally gave in and called my mom.

"Between the two of us, I highly doubt _you'd_ be the one to go crazy, honey," Renee jokes. The fire explodes and I want to smash the phone to pieces. Everything's always a joke to her.

Inhale. Exhale. _Relax_. But the fire only dissipates slightly. _Something's wrong_. But what could possibly be wrong? I touch my thighs and arms, taking stock. I'm perfectly fine. Charlie's downstairs watching the football game. _Something's wrong_. But nothing's wrong. I'm fine.

"Okay, silence is never a good sign. What's wrong?" Renee finally realizes that I'm very serious.

I know that I can't tell her the whole truth; it's too crazy for me to believe, let alone my mother—that I'm a part of something greater than myself. Even though I won't say it, I feel it. It's in my bones, the same way that Jacob is in my soul. No! He's not in my soul. We've only re-known each other a few weeks.

"There's this guy—" I start.

"Oh, a _guy_. Well, that certainly explains this conversation," Renee cuts in, in true Renee fashion. "Do I know this _guy_?"

"It's Billy Blacks son," I respond irritated.

"Oh he _was_ a cutie as a baby. Is he just as cute all grown up?" Renee gushes.

Her question only warrants a simply yes or no, but I can't help it. The pull spreads, and suddenly I feel a sense of overwhelming pride.

"More like beautiful," I find myself responding. "He's _everything_ any girl could possibly want."

"So what's the problem if he's everything?" Renee asks. The surprise in her voice is clear at my forward words.

I throw myself back, lay on my back on the bed, and stare at the ceiling. For a moment it's as though I'm not talking to Renee, but all the spirits of my ancestors. I'm talking to the countless dead spirits of women who have wanted as badly as I want. I talk to _them_, and seek their counsel. I talk to a higher being that has a solution to bring me peace from the _pull_ and the _fire_.

"The problem is that he _is_ _everything_," I say timidly. I'm unsure if I'll make sense. I'm worried that I'm the only woman to have felt something so fierce and overpowering. Maybe I'm defective somehow, and feel _too_ deeply. But, maybe not. "When I see him I feel this—this _emotion_. It's like I'm on fire _for_ him. But then when he's gone, I'm aching, waiting for him to come back. I'm burning from the inside out when he's not near me…I want him, and this isn't like how Barbie loved Ken when I was a kid. This is _raw_ and _consuming_. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do because, in some _sick_, and _twisted_ way, I _like_ wanting him the way I do. I _like_ the fire I feel and the pull that's like gravity when he's around…Am I going crazy?"

I close my eyes in wait. Let the world do what it will. If I'm crazy, I'll take it. I'll accept it, as long as I continue to feel this connection to _him_.

"Honey, I'm sorry to tell you," Renee pauses for dramatic effect and my eyes snap open in fear. I know I'll accept it, but I don't _want_ to be crazy. "You are _not_ crazy."

"I'm not?!" I sit up suddenly and dizziness assaults me.

"Nope," Renee's smile pierces through the door. "You've got your first adult crush! Everything you're feeling is perfectly normal, and nothing that every other woman hasn't felt."

Her words should comfort me. Her words should make me feel light as a feather. But all I feel is sharp _something_. I can't even explain it to myself. Maybe I didn't explain it correctly. Perhaps…everything between me and Jacob is like the universe: immeasurable, unnamable, unparalleled, and emblematic to the way soul-mates work.

But we're not soul mates. We barely know each other. Unless we are, and I'm in denial. Denial, because I'm going crazy.

Maybe I'm crazier than I thought, and all I can find it in myself to say in response is, "Oh."

* * *

><p>It's Friday morning, and I'm waiting on the steps in front of my house. Charlie left a few minutes ago headed to work, and asked me how long I planned to wait for Jacob. I hadn't answered.<p>

Jacob's late. He's never late, at least, not since I re-met him. I don't know about _before_. It seems almost impossible that there was a _before_. Before we re-met. Before we touched. Before gravity fell beneath my feet, and I started feeling these _imperatives._

I see Jacob's bike coming down the block, and relief and hope spike inside of me. He's here. But it's not him. _I know_. I can see with my eyes the physical differences, but none of that matters. I know, deep inside of bones. The pull is coiled tight, in anxiety. He's nowhere near me.

"Hey," the guy on Jacob's bike pulls up. "You're Bella?"

I nod, and clutch my books tighter. Logic rules me, but my shoulders relax. Whoever he is, I can trust him. Whoever he is, he won't hurt me. How can I possibly know this? I can't. But I _do_. _Safe. Family_. He's not family. I've never met him before a day in my life.

I'm making myself dizzy with confusion, and I sway a little. This guy is in front of me, holding me by the elbow, steadying me, within an instant.

"You're alright?" he asks, anxious.

"Yea, I'm good," I try to reassure him. He _needs_ to know that I'm okay. But not in the same way Jacob needs to know. It feels different, even though I don't know how. Jacob's is more apprehensive, while this man's need is simply concern…but…

The fire boils inside of me, and the pull tugs fretfully, but it sends waves of calm through me.

Jacob is sending me waves of calm. He can't. There's no such thing. But I feel the wave like I feel the fire when it's not mine.

"Who are you?" I ask shyly. I don't want to seem too rude, but he hadn't introduced himself, yet. But if I'm honest this is just a formality. I know who he is. _Family_. He's not family. _Safe_. He could be a serial murderer.

"Paul," he lets me go. "Jacob couldn't make it today, so he sent me to take you to school."

"Oh," I say, disappointed. "It's fine, I can take myself."

Paul simply shakes his head, and says, "orders are orders," as though that explains everything. It doesn't, but something in the _pull_ knows that it does explain it all.

He goes to hop back on the bike, but I can't let this be the end. Where's Jacob? _Something's wrong._ Nothing's wrong. I don't have some psychic connection to him just because I like him, I huff at myself.

I grip by books a bit harder, and find myself asking, "Where's Jacob?"

"He's at the Rez, handling some _stuff_," he doesn't explain what the "_stuff_" are, and I don't ask. His serious eyes intimidate me a bit. _Family. Safe_.

The fire lifts inside of me, and my hands reach for my chest. I breathe deeply, trying to get it down to a simmer, but it's not my fire. I try to steady my eyes on Paul, but when I do, his eyes penetrate me. He see _through_ me, and I know that he understands the fire.

He doesn't rush me, and I smile gratefully when the fire calms down some. He doesn't smile back, but he nods in kinship.

He gets on the bike, and I climb on behind him. The pull practically purrs, it feels so comfortable. _Family. Safe_. No, not family. But perhaps safe. I do feel safe, like I'm with an extension of Jacob.

I shake my head, to try to clear it. I _must_ be losing my mind if I'm making connections with total strangers. He drives fast, but my heart doesn't race in fear. I'm not afraid because I am _safe. _The wind whips past me. My heartbeat is slow and steady. I am free. I am riding the waves of the wind, and I am lost among the strands of time for the five minutes it takes us to get to Forks High.

I hop off and steady my wobbly knees.

"So, you're Jacob's friend?" I smile timidly. _Family_. Stop. Inhale. Exhale. _Fire_. Breathe.

"More like brother's really," he smiles a little. He must not smile a lot because he doesn't have any laugh lines (not even light ones), but he has a glorious smile. If Jacob is the sun, then Paul would be the moon, bright in its darkness.

He looks past me and I follow his gaze to Lauren. She doesn't notice me and I'm able to really observe her for a moment. If want had an image, it would be her eyes. I blush, and look away, uncomfortable with witnessing such realism. But when I look away, I see Lauren's emotions reflected in his eyes, and I am captivated with the thought that others could see how much I _feel_ for Jacob.

I go to speak, but the Cullens arrive, and Paul's reaction is instantaneous. Whereas Jacob always glances at them, almost in warning, Paul tenses and a low growl rumbles in his chest.

"Are you alright?" I ask, but I _know_. He must feel what I feel when I'm near them.

"Yea, just _really_ hate those _fuckers_," he doesn't tear his eyes away from them. It's as if he's watching their slightest move – from the twitch in their hands, to the stretch of their limbs as they all get out of their cars.

I blush at his language, but I understand the feeling. I hate them, though _I_ don't hate them. It's the _fire_ and the _pull_ that flares and tugs me away, as though they were Death itself.

"Jacob told me that he's got some problems with them," I fish for information. I let the fire, which flared when they arrived just now, give me strength to be so bold. I know it's none of my business. Paul might think I'm nosy and not worthy Jacob's affection…

Maybe I _am_ nosy. The heat in my face intensifies at the realization.

"Not just him," Paul explains, as he maneuvers his body at an angle where he's shielding me but still keeping the Cullens in his vision. Why? _Protect_. I don't need protection. _Family. Safe_. The pull and _knowing_ is going to be death of me, if I'm _not_ insane.

"The Cullens aren't allowed on Quileute land. Their _ancestors_…well, let's just say that they were monsters," Paul tries to explain the situation. He says "ancestors" with a twist of his mouth, like there's some private joke.

"What does that have to do with Jacob?" I ask shamelessly. If he's willing to tell me, I'm willing to listen. I'm willing to do anything to understand Jacob more. To know him more. _More_.

"Jacob's the future chief of the Tribe. He feels the pain of the past like you wouldn't believe," he says somberly. I read his eyes. I read what he's not saying. _I know_.

"You feel the same pain, too," I keep my eyes wide open, hoping that he'll see that I just want to understand. I want to discern that I'm not crazy. And even if I _am_ crazy, I want the comfort of knowing that I'm not alone in my craziness.

"Yea," he lays his hand on the crown of my head. "Yea, ays his hand on the crown of my head. "hat he'of the past liek lmost in warning, Paul tenses and a low growl rumbles in hisI do, too. We _all_ do."

"Who's we?" I ask like whiplash. I don't feel uncomfortable with his hand on my head. _Safe_.

Suddenly he pulls me into his embrace, and I am cocooned. I am wrapped in the warmth and safety of kinship. Paul whispers fiercely in answer, "The _Pack. Family_."

Shock ripples through me. _Pack. Family._ How did he know what's inside of me? How could he know? But he doesn't know. He can't. Even I'm not _that_ deranged.

The hug only last a moment, but in that moment Paul inhales my scent deeply, much like Jacob does. But when Jacob does it, heat and passion cover my skin like a second layer. When Jacob inhales my scent, it's as if I'm being torn apart by yearning from the inside-out.

Paul's inhale simply relaxes me. I am safe. Family.

He lets go, and hops back on the bike. I didn't realize that the bell had rung and almost everyone has already gone inside.

He revs the bike up, and looks at me, inside, to the _pull_ and the _knowing_, and smiles lightly. _Safe. Family_. And just like on a swing-set, I spontaneously smile back. I smile so big that Jacob could feel it wherever he is, if he feels me like I imagine I feel him.

My smile stays with me as I walk into the building and to the first class of the day – Math.

I smile because Paul is Safe. Family. _Pack_, whatever that means. And it feels good. _So good_, to know that I'm connected to Jacob in a whole new way, even if it's only in my mind.

The pull agrees, and together, we accept that which we cannot change; Jacob _is_ everything, and I don't ever want to go back to _before_.

* * *

><p>Classes fly by, and as I walk to biology, Jessica rambles on. I want to listen to her, I do, but my mind wanders and she's perfectly capable of handling conversation all on her own, I've noticed. A chill sweeps me, and I shiver.<p>

I've been having bouts of shivers all day—Mike had even tossed me his sweater earlier, he could tell I was cold. But this coldness, it's deep inside of me. It's more than the wind or the air. It's in me. The cold lies in the space Jacob is inside of me.

Or maybe, I'm simply underdressed for the weather.

"Are you coming tonight?" Jessica asks me.

"What's tonight?" I ask, slightly dazed from my inner _knowing._ Something's wrong. I've given up denying it.

"I'm throwing a party up at the creek, are you coming?"

I shrug, smile lightly, and say, "maybe." What else is there to say? I _might_ come if Jacob would go with me. My pull jumps in joy at the thought, but then it coils and reminds me that _something's wrong_. My smile disappears, and we walk into Biology.

Edward, who had been missing from class after that first day, sits there. I cringe slightly, and feel guilt swim in my veins. He's done nothing to me. _Jacob hates him._ But I'm not Jacob. _Family. Pack_. But even though I'm not Jacob, I am loyal, and Jacob told me to steer clear.

But how to steer clear when our seats are right next to each other? I walk slowly to my sit, hoping to come up with a solution. It's too late. I sit down, and the fire rages like a storm in the Bermuda triangle. I breathe deeply and clutch at my textbook like it will safe me from damnation.

"Hello," Edward speaks. He _speaks_ to _me_. I'm shocked—the first time we sat next to each other it was clear we both had some major issues with the other. Now, he's not moving away from me, but leaning towards me. The more he leans, the more the pull wants to yank and spring me to the other side of the room.

I won't be controlled.

"Hi," I say awkwardly. Go away, _please, please, please_. The pull and the fire are driving me more insane than I think I already am.

"Isabella, right?" he asks. He smiles a crooked smile, and I realize that he is handsome. Not more than Jacob though. _Never_.

"Yep," I breathe deeply, but his _scent_ assaults my nose and it's repugnant. I don't bother to correct him. I don't want him _ever_ saying my _real_ name. Like we're friendly, like we're _anything at all_. I gulp, and try to breathe through my mouth. I hope he doesn't notice, but right now, there's _too much_ and something's gotta give.

"I'm Edward Cullen," he introduces himself, and holds out his hand for me to shake. He's very formal, which is a fresh change, but I _can't_. My entire body locks up, and I remember Jacob's words. _Steer clear of them_. The _fire_ insists that if I touch him…

"Yea, I know who you are," I glare at him, and he removes his hand. He leans away from me for a moment, and I can finally breathe. I'm not a rude person, but I can't help it. The fire won't let up, not even an inch right now, and it's _his_ fault.

"Did I do something to offend you?" he asks politely. His politeness grates on my _last nerve_—whoa! It's the fire and the pull making me so aggressive. I take a deep breath and try to situate myself.

"No, sorry," I start. "Just having one of _those days_, you know?" I lie. I can't possibly tell him about the _fire_ or the extreme desire to rip his head from his body. Great, now I'm turning into a serial killer.

"Of course," he says smoothly. Too smoothly. I try to control the frown, but it creases my forehead anyway.

Thankfully, the class begins and I can focus on something else besides that _scent_ and the _fire_ and the _pull_—_anything_ except the man who is descendant from monsters.

* * *

><p>After, what I am now referring to as <em>the incident<em> with Edward Cullen, I run out of the classroom like demons are chasing me at the heel. Mike and Angela catch up to me and I shrug away their concern. I'm fine. _I'm fine_. Just filled with too much of Jacob, that's all.

The day passes by like lightning in the sky, and suddenly I'm outside, realizing I have no car to take me back home. But _I know_ that someone will pick me up. _Knowing_ has become comforting to me.

"You need a ride?" Tyler asks me, and Lauren simply eyes me, waiting. I want to look away shyly, it's simply my nature. But the fire I had been feeling all day long has me restless, and _knowing_ that _something's wrong_ with Jacob has got me on edge.

I _know_ her feelings for Paul and I don't want confrontation, but I don't look away.

"No, I'm sure that Jacob or one of his friends will swing by to pick me up," I smile tightly.

"I saw Paul drop you off this morning," Lauren says slightly bitchily. "Did you jump ship, Bella?"

The passive me I've always been wants to give awkward long winded answers, but I just don't have it in me. Not now. Not when _something's wrong_, and the Cullens are watching me. Why _are_ they watching me?

"He's practically Jacob's _brother_," I stare her down. Look away, look away, and she does. I feel a pride that isn't mine, but in a way it is. This pride is akin to the one that assaulted me when I gushed about Jacob to Renee. It's linked to the fire and the pull.

I see the apology on her lips, but I shake my head. I understand. She smiles apologetically, sheepishly, instead, and it's good enough.

Paul pulls up on his bike, and it feels like everything is connected. We are all connected. _Family. Safe. Pack._

"Ready to go?" he says, and I look to Lauren.

I understand her possessiveness. I think we understand the fire, and I want to give her a minute alone with Paul. Maybe her fire will ease, but I _can't_. I want to see Jacob. I _need_ him to replace the cold.

"Yea, but…" I stumble over my words, but I grip my textbooks. "Can you take me to Jacob's place, instead?"

He smiles, nods, and I hear Lauren's intake of breath. I understand. She is illuminated for a moment, and I let her have it. I feel guilty for not giving her more than that, but _something's wrong_.

I put my textbooks in my bag, and hop on.

Paul inhales my scent and freezes. He turns to me, and looks me up and down.

"Did the _Cullens_ corner you?" he asks fiercely. I instinctually lay my open palm on his neck, and shake my head.

"Edward Cullen is my biology partner," I try to smooth. He hasn't unfrozen yet, and I _know_ he wants to go over there and demand that he change his seat. "Just let it go. It's one class."

He breathes out, and says, "you're gonna have to take a shower."

Everyone's talking around us, ignoring us, and yet I feel eyes. The Cullens are _still_ watching me, and the fire flares. I look away, unnerved. I breathe deeply to calm the fire and I smell myself.

"Yea, guess so," I concede to Paul. Perhaps I do smell like a little like Edward Cullen. With my acquiescence, Paul takes off to the reservation.

Miles and miles of road stretch beneath me, but I am safe. I am free. I am _finally_ going to see Jacob.

* * *

><p>We arrive in front of Jacob's house, but I worry that he isn't here. I feel silly, coming all the way here without warning.<p>

I get off the bike, and begin to walk to the front door, when I see a shadow in the woods. I change my course, and I walk towards the shadow that slowly becomes clearer. _Jacob_.

But he is unlike I've ever seen him. Whenever he picks me up he's always in long jeans, and tight black or white t-shirt. He's always composed and relaxed. But _this_ Jacob is in cut off shorts, and shirtless. _This_ Jacob has ashes and blood covering his torso.

_This _Jacob is still _mine_.

And I walk over to him, without fear, without anxiety. He notices me, and I can see the struggle in his face.

We reach each other. My book bag falls from my hands.

"_What_ _happened to you_?" I ask, my eyes roving his entire body. Lava enters my face, seeing how powerful and _sexy_ he is. _Mine_.

"Got into a fight," he smiles sardonically. There are secrets in his eyes, but I can wait. I can wait forever to know those secrets. No, not forever. I barely know him as it is, to make such a decision. _Family. Pack_.

"Your eyes," I reach for his face, but his hands grasp them midair. His eyes are amber, strikingly so. I see _something_ in his eyes, _something_ that feels so similar to the _fire_ and the _pull_.

"You shouldn't see me like this, Bella," his voice vibrates through me. He's as dominant as I've ever seen him. I want to turn away and run. I want _more_.

"How? _Real?_" I step closer to him, and invade his space. I could care less about the blood and ash that covers him. "I—I want to _know_ you."

"_Fuck, Bells,_" Jacob pulls me into him by my hand. I fall into him, and suddenly his lips are on my cheek and neck, and _everywhere._ I feel the pulse in my body like explosion. _More. More. Please. _

I can feel him barely holding everything together, and I can't decide whether or not I hate how out of control he is. The pull wants him to lose _all_ control.

He goes to push me away, but I throw my arms around him neck, and cling to him. "Don't Jacob. Please," I whisper. I don't make any sense, but he understands me anyway. He understands, and I can feel the space between us disappear.

His lips find mine, and I am floating. I am lost in him, and I _am_ him for a moment. _We._ There is no _pull_ or _fire_ or _imperative_. There is simply us, whatever that means, but I feel it like I've never felt anything else.

His fingers dig into my scalp, trying get me closer, _more_. My fingers dig into his shoulders, trying to bury themselves within his flesh. If only…

I feel _all of him_, and I can't stop the whimper that escapes me. I can't stop. I don't want to.

We break for air, and in that instance I am broken, torn apart from Jacob; a place where I never want to be again. But he licks my lips playfully with his tongue, and I breathe in his scent. Masculine. _Mine_.

We breathe for a moment, in sync, taking stock of our desire. If he feels half of what I feel, it's a wonder he can stand.

"I need to take a shower," I say timidly. He breathes deeply, and his amber eyes glow in recognition. He _knows_, and, frankly, I'm over trying to figure out how I know. _Too much. Too soon_.

"What happened?" he growls.

"Nothing, just biology with Edward Cullen" I bend my lips to his bicep. I wish I could worship his entire body like a priest at an altar. "I stink," I joke.

He smiles at me, and I want him _so badly_ that I feel my knees buckle. But I don't fall. He grasps me by the hips and holds me steady, to him. I am against every muscle in his body, and a moan lets loose without my permission.

His hands rove my body for a second, and I wish that he would touch me more. I'm his, right?

"I need to take a shower, too," he whispers, and the _pull_ jumps. Is he suggesting what I think he is? I'm scared, but it's the good kind of fear. The kind people have when they're about to go on a rollercoaster ride. "C'mon," he ushers me to the house.

I have no idea where Paul went to, but he's gone.

We walk into the quaintly modest home, and I instantly love how homey it is. It's obvious that bachelors live here—it's a little too homey, but it's wonderful in its simplicity, and minor mess.

Jacob guides me to the bathroom, but he doesn't leave. He goes to the bathtub and turns around and asks me "shower or bath?" His eyes are still amber and I want to say, whatever will please him more, but instead I say "bath." with a flush and a duck of my head.

He runs the bathtub with hot water, and lets it fill to the top. As it's filling he takes his body wash, and empties it in the tub, letting the water mix with it and make small bubbles. We wait in comfortable silence, until he's done.

He turns around to me, smiles, and leaves the bathroom. I let the air around me shift, readjust to his lack of presence, and then I take off the oppressive clothes that smell like Edward Cullen, and get in the bath. The water scorches my skin, but it's good. It feels like Jacob.

It's not a bubble bath, but it's even better because Jacob made it for me. _Mine_. _His_.

A sigh leaves me, I'm so relaxed, with Jacob so near, but the door opens again. Jacob walks in, his stride beautiful and powerful as always, and lets his gaze sweep over my submerged body. I flush all over, saved by the only mercy that the hot water covers me. Only the swell of my breasts are visible, but I'm flushed even there, and the realization makes me light up like a Christmas tree.

He smiles, his eyes shining gold like the unreachable sun, and he turns towards the sink. He turns the tap on, pause for a second.

The air shifts again, and I feel the _fire_, it wants. I want, too.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. _Breathe_, so I don't explode in yearning.

Jacob's hands unzip his cut offs, and pushes them down. He stands there in his glory, and my mouth goes dry. His skin may be filthy with grime, ashes, and blood, but he is magnificent in his glory. He is bravura in his dominion.

He's naked, and as vulnerable as any man can be. Jacob scoops water in his hand, lets it fill, and throws it over his chest, neck, arms. He turns and looks at me.

I look at him.

_We._

Logically, I should feel uncomfortable with so much mutual exposure, and yet…

"There's a party, later on tonight," I try to distract myself from the pulse that's slowly building from simply watching him. From simply wanting him, _all the time_. "Do—do you want to go?

He stops cleansing himself, and grabs a washcloth from the bottom cabinet. He walks over to me, and dips it in the water.

Anxiety wants to hit me, and I realize I left all of my books outside, on the floor. But, Jacob lifts the washcloth and settles it at the center of my chest. I guess, I'll pick it up later. _Progress_.

He drags it down, beneath the water, on my skin; it leaves a trail of fire inside and out. He reaches my pelvis, and my body slightly arches in response. My breath comes out in shallow pants, and _I need_.

I can see a mirror in his eyes, and I _know_ he needs just as much as I do. He smiles wickedly, and I know that he's playing the both of us like the strings of a Spanish guitar. The _fire_ _loves_ the way he plays us. I'm floating so high on _him_, that I can admit I love it, too.

"Wouldn't you rather stay here?" he asks huskily. _Forever_ I want to say, but it's only been two weeks. _Too much, too soon._

Instead, I nod and say, "You make a compelling argument."

His laughter rings out, and his eyes return to normal. I chuckle with him, my body content exactly where we are.

Everything's alright now.

He takes the washcloth and continues to wash himself, as I relax and watch him. The droplets of water run over his frame, searching for the ocean; the pull sleeps, _safe_, _content_.

The chill had disappeared, gone into the mystical abyss of _pull_ and _fire_, lying in wait for the next time Jacob isn't around, but I'm ready. I'm ready to face the inner cold with memories of his lips on mine, flesh against flesh, and an _inner knowing_ that all the blood on him—all the blood he sheds—is all for me.

And I can wait.

* * *

><p>Sooo? What do you guys think? I didn't want to make this chapter too long, so I thought I'd end it here. Liked it? Hated it? Let me know and Review!<p> 


	4. Between Truths and Happiness

Disclaimer – I own nothing.

A.N. – Wow! Simply, wow! You guys have reviewed me speechless. I seriously thank everyone who reviews and reads silently! Your favorites, Follows, and Reviews make me smile!

To **Guest (1)**, **booklovur217**, **PhOenIxJaDeBLaCK**, **twin268**, **lunasheart**, **shay205**, **Guest(2)**, **Me**, **KYKEMD**, **kouga's older woman**, **teamjacob0729**, **Guest(3)**, **Guest(4)**, **BeckieT108**, **Flower2001**, **RoseMarieCraves**, **Guest(5)**, **Guest(6)**, **Billie333**, **Anonfan101**, **dancingbarefoot**, **xaviorismy1andonly3512**, **madfangirl**, **YouHaveGOT2BeKiddingMe**, **PrincesitaVulturi**, **TiffaniW**, **chocolatetae**: THANK YOU! You have no idea how much your support means to me!

**Important**: Someone asked a valid question as to why this story isn't rated M. The answer: this story does not and will never have any explicit situation (sex) described in detail. Nothing that I have written or will write is something that can't be found in a PG-13 movie. With that said, on with the show!

_/Then I'd just fade into you:_

_In your heart, in your head, in your arms, in your bed, under your skin_

_Till there's no way to know where you end, and where I begin_

_I wanna melt in, I wanna soak through, I only wanna move when you move_

_I wanna breathe out when you breathe in_

_Then I wanna fade into you/_

-Fade Into You, Clare Bowen Ft. Sam Palladio

Chapter 4 – Between Truths and Happiness

Everything was peaceful, and beautiful, and so _real_ that I could burst from the emotional overload. Everything _was_ until the water got cold, and my fingers pruned, and I realized that I was naked, and so was Jacob.

We were naked…together.

I was cool, I was. I was composed. Okay, not really, but my brain went into therapy mode and I just kept reminding myself not to hyperventilate.

_Don't hyperventilate, don't hyperventilate_, but it was so hard not to freak out. _Too much, too soon_. The pull was suspiciously silent, and Jacob _knew_. He stood up, lifted a towel and averted his gaze.

His gaze was something that I always want on me, but…

I stood up carefully so as not to fall, and stepped into the towel. He wrapped it around me, and I felt cocooned in the warmth of life.

He left and it was strange, I felt as though the Earth shrank for a moment, until he returned with a shirt and sweats.

He looked me in the eyes then; I was lost and found. He smiled lightly, like he _knew_, and left, the moment broken, water dripping down my body, shivers racking me with the draft, and all the while I wished I could go back to the beauty of peace, and ethereal-ism, and emotional overload.

I wished that I could go back to before the world shrank, and I realized that this _experience_ couldn't be just me. I'm not crazy, I'm not.

I _knew_ I wasn't crazy, and the realization was so overpowering that it brought me to my knees.

* * *

><p>I replay it over and over in my mind as I sit on Jacob's sofa. We're talking, and laughing, and <em>normal<em>.

"So, did you freak out when you saw I wasn't there to pick you up?" Jacob teases me.

"_No_," I lie. "I barely noticed."

"Yea, like a heart attack, right?" he responds jokingly. Too bad he's surprisingly right on the mark.

"I'm surprised your ego can fit through the door!" I can't help but laugh, his attitude is infectious. His self-confidence creates a bubble of warmth where I feel safe being as confident as him.

"Hey," Jacob smirks. "Hate the player, not the game."

"Oh," I roll my eyes. "_So_ original!"

We laugh, but soon the laughter drips away and intensity takes its place. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

I look away, but the _pull_ yanks. It wants all of my focus on him. Maybe with my books I could refuse, but – Wait! My book! I remember that I left them outside, uncaring of them in the wake of Jacob's all-encompassing presence.

But I _need_ them – _no!_ The _pull_ squeezes, and the _knowing_ tells me that I don't need anything except for Jacob. But that can't be true…I've always needed my books, as far as I can remember needing a friend. _Pull_.

I want to race through the door and find them—_Pull_.

I _know_ what to do, but I'm scared. Jacob, not knowing what's going on, but realizing _something_'s going on, lends me his hand. His hand is slightly calloused and he burns with a fever so bright that all I can focus on is the juxtaposition of our fires—his outside, mine inside.

The _fire_ replaces the need for my first love. _Jacob replaces it_. And I can breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Breathe.

"So, how about those basketball teams?" I joke. The intensity lessens, but it hangs around the corner, waiting for the next moment to return.

"What do you know about basketball?" Jacob inquires, his hands still in mine. It feels right. _Mine_.

"What do you want to teach me about it?" I try to flirt, but I'm not sure I'm doing it correctly. I've never had to try before. I've never wanted to try.

"Baby, I'd teach you _everything and then some_," he smiles wide, and I can't help the giggle that erupts from me. I've never been much of a giggler, either. So much change. _Too much, not enough_.

The bubble pops.

I can't stand the ruse. The pretense of it all. Laughing and joking when all I seem to want is to drown in him, and be reborn into a woman he can't live without.

The fire burns steady, and comfortable.

"What's wrong?" Jacob asks me, too perceptive. His eyes, chocolate, see all.

"What's going on?" I ask. There's something in his eyes, akin to realization. Or maybe I just wish it is, so I don't feel so alone. But the pull nudges and I know I'll never be alone. Never is a long time. _Never_.

"What do you mean? What's going on with us? Or…?" He sidesteps. Or maybe he's just seeking clarification. But I remember the amber eyes that spoke of an untamable beast. I remember the _fire_ and the _pull_. I remember _everything_ that has to do with Jacob, even from _before_. That's not normal. Yet, nothing else has ever felt so normal.

I can't be feeling this alone, can I? No, I know I'm not crazy, anymore.

"I mean, _what's going on?"_ It was the best way to describe it all—without describing it at all.

He sighs and leans forward, forearms on knees, shoulders filled with the weight of the world. I instantly want to take the question back. The last thing I ever want to cause Jacob is more worry, but…

_Family. Pack_.

I _need_ answers. Any answer will do at this point. Any understanding and vindication that I'm really _not_ crazy.

But it's only been a few weeks; maybe I don't _deserve_ any answers.

He's taking too long to answer—maybe I've imagined it all. A trick of the light, a developing problem with my heart that I think is linked with him, a—

"What do you _think_ is going on?" he asks. It feels like we're playing round robin, and I might be losing horribly. My hands start to itch for my books, to ground myself. But now isn't the time to get distracted.

This conversation _matters_ more than any we've ever had, between the jokes and the shared amusements. This matters, so I steel myself against the urge to run, the urge to grip Jane Austen and be as tough as Elizabeth Bennet.

"I think that something _awesome_ is happening, but I don't know what it is." I start, feeling out the words carefully in my mouth. Every word counts. _Pull_. I know, I know. I shake my head at myself, talking back to the _pull_. _Pull_. "It feels like you—you and me, we're everything right now. And sometimes I get mad. Not like I got an F, but like I'm on Jerry Springer mad, but I don't have any reason to be so mad. It—the anger—doesn't feel like me. It feels…it feels like _you_," I finish, averting eye contact.

There's only so much bravery I can muster spontaneously. I play with the strings on his sweats, wondering if it all has really been in my head.

"I feel you, too" Jacob whispers, and suddenly my gaze is taking him in, and he's hauled me onto his lap, my legs on either side of him.

"Why?" I whisper. I'm terrified of what I don't know or understand. I want to scratch and claw out of my skin to get under his skin. I want to bleed reasons to love him, like it feels I'm starting to.

But I can't start to love him. It's only been two weeks, for god sakes!

"Because we're special," he says huskily, head buried in my hair. I love the way he speaks to me, like I'm strong enough, and vulnerable enough. Like I'm _everything_. "My people, we can look into someone's eyes and know whether or not they're _the one_."

"Like soul mates?" I whisper back. We're sharing secrets of the most important kind—secrets of the heart I think.

"Imprint," he grips me a little tighter, but I'm not going anywhere. I run my hands through his hair, and he relaxes. "Soul mates are the other half, right? Imprints are _better_; Imprints are already whole, but with one look, two people—you and me—we _merge_. We stamp our souls into each other. It's why we can feel each other, the anger, the happiness, the want, _everything_."

_Too much, not enough. _

There's so much that makes sense, and yet, so much that doesn't. Questions answered, but now I feel as though I just have a different set of questions.

"Why do people _imprint_?" I'm barely breathing. He's barely breathing. _We._

The air around us feels electric, wonderful, and horrible simultaneously. There's a burden that seems to lift off of Jacob's shoulder's and settle in the air around us, waiting to fall on the both of us.

"To…protect better," Jacob chooses his words too carefully. He's hiding something. I'm being paranoid. _Pull. Fire_. Okay, maybe not.

"Jacob," I push back to look him in the eyes. "Just…_tell me_. I won't run." I wouldn't be able to run, even if I wanted to. _We_. We're linked now, forever.

Forever is a long time, but apparently that's the point.

"I'm the future chief of my tribe," he starts, and the burden in the air is getting heavier with every word. "It's not just pushing paper, and going to Indian Affairs meetings. There's a _legacy_ that's more than government understanding. This legacy, it runs in my blood like the rivers in the world, y'know? It's _more_ than anything out there, and it transforms me. It _literally_ transforms me into the fiercest protector out there—_wolf_."

And the burden falls from the air around us, and almost breaks me with its shared heaviness.

My brain runs wild, but the pull finally acknowledges truth, and the fire breathes in honesty. I don't know what to do, what the correct response is.

"Family, _pack_," I whisper, finally understanding. He nods his head, and I want to vomit. But the anxiety in his eyes reel me in, ground me, adjust the circle of need in my life, and I try to comfort him. "So, y—you _eat_ people? Like in _Blood and Chocolate_?"

My comforting skills clearly need help, but frankly, I had nothing else. I didn't want to die. But he would never hurt me, _Imprint_.

"We only hunt to protect our own," Jacob explains. But his explanation doesn't answer the real question.

"What do you hunt?" I'm barely breathing. I can't breathe_. Please don't say people. Please don't say people_. _Pull_. I growl at myself. I'm tired of the pull and the fire and the _knowing_. I _need_ to hear him say the truth.

_Too soon, not enough_.

"Maybe that's enough for now—"

"_No_," the word rips out of me. I don't want to know. I have to know. _Too soon, not enough_. I try to explain, anyway. "I'm _in_ this, whatever this is. I—I'm not sure what any of this means, and I'm not fully convinced that everything that has happened between us isn't the product of some weird delusion. Maybe I'm sick with a fever and this entire conversation is a dream. But…I don't care. I _choose_ to believe in this—this _dream. _I _choose_ _you_ and _insanity_ rather than lose this—this _feeling_ that you give me, and this _knowing_, and _fire_, and _pull_. I—I _choose you_, so…"

I trail off, lost in feeling, and hoping that he feels the same way I do.

But his silence scares me. Maybe the _imprint _isn't as strong as I thought. Perhaps the _merge_ isn't as powerful as he made it out to be.

"We hunt," he begins, and it's answer enough. He feels the way I do. He feels _me_. _Imprint_. "But we don't kill. We can't kill what's not really alive, right?" he smiles bitterly.

I don't understand. Everything is alive, isn't it? He reads the confusion on my face, and his eyes are haunted. I feel his fear, but I won't run. He knows I won't run. _Pull_. He's afraid of changing my world. I try to project my feelings to him, but I don't know if it worked. I don't know anything, but his hands burn my skin through the shirt. He burns like I burn.

"We _destroy_," he continues, and the amber licks his eyes, threatening to come back. The fire rages a bit, but it feels familiar, now. _Home_. "We hunt and destroy…_things_…that shouldn't exist. Y'know, my people, they believe in a balance. They say that _we, the pack,_ exist to restore the balance that _they_ ruin. My people call them _the cold ones_—"

Gasp. Exhale. Inhale. Breathe.

I don't know what "cold ones" are, but they sound bad. Really bad. The way Jacob speaks of them, with such barely masked fury, reminds me of my aversion to the Cullens.

"Who are they?" _Cullens_, I know. Maybe not. _Know._

"The way it's told," he looks through me, into the past, the present, the future, the infinite moment called history. "A male cold one came on a sunny day with blood all over it, shining in the light. It's how the people knew to run in fear, and the wolves knew something was wrong. _The smell_ filled them with rage. _This_ was the _thing _that had been killing in our parts. _This_ was the _thing_ that dared try to kill our people…" he trails off.

He's lost in the history in his mind. This information is terrifying, but intriguing.

"How does the story end? What happened"

"With us," Jacob says, his baritone shakes me to the core. "_The Pack_ happened."

"Are—" I try to ask, but I can only deal with bravery in small doses.

"Yes," he answers my unspoken question. The Cullens _are_ cold ones.

I have a barrage of more questions, but I can sense the toll this has taken on him, his soul. The burden is twofold now, somehow. But at least we share it. At least he's not alone and burdened.

Or this could all still be a figment of my imagination while I'm lying on my deathbed with a killer fever.

Silence takes a seat between us, and it lingers for a while. He's letting me process everything, and emotion fills me up to the brim. I am grateful, and so many other things that I couldn't name if given a thousand years.

He understands, and lets it all be, for now.

I need more time than I have, so I take a breath. He breathes with me. _Us_.

"So, what's the deal with Paul and Lauren?" I awkwardly try for a change in subject.

His laughter sings, and a blush rushes through me.

He probably thinks I'm just nosy, but a smile graces my lips as I see the twinkle in his eyes. Maybe, for that smile, I'd be nosy any day. Maybe, I'm simply a little bit nosy, sans imprint or change.

_Merge_, not re-make. _Together_.

* * *

><p>An hour has passed after Jacob's bomb, and we haven't moved an inch. I don't think he wants me to move, and I sure don't want to either. <em>We<em>.

The door opens abruptly and a bulky man, just as large as Jacob, but shorter by half an inch or so, barges in. His presence startles me and I leap off of Jacob's lap. Unfortunately, I forgot about my constant battle with gravity, and I fall to the floor with a loud _thud_.

Considering the _imprint_, I would expect Jacob to leap to my rescue, or at least attempt one. But, instead, he watches as I fall. A moment passes, and his booming laughter fills the space where I had been sitting.

This man laughs too, and I want to huff in annoyance, but the pull coils in happiness. _Pack. Family. _Oh.

"You alright down there?" Jacob asks me as he lends me a hand. I nod, a blush bright on my face from embarrassment, and smile.

"This is Sam," he introduces us. Sam goes to speak, but I cut him off—the imperative to acknowledge him overpowers me for a moment.

"_Pack_," I say. Sam's eyes light up in some kind of recognition, but I don't know of what. _Know. Pull_.

But I don't want to be overpowered by the pull. Maybe my response was too much, too soon.

"Yea," Sam nods, and moves forward to embrace me. So many hugs in one day, so many strangers touching me…but they're not strangers. _Pack_. _Family._

The pull reacts, and he can sense that I'm hitting my limit for the day on non-normal experiences. I _know_ that he can, but not like Jacob. Never like Jacob can. _Imprint_.

Sam, instead, lays a hand on my head for a second. Contact. Pack. Relax. Safe.

"So, what's up, Sammy?" Jacob smiles, a little too brightly. Sam frowns and growls a bit, deep in his throat; Jacob just smiles wider. Guess, he doesn't like being called "Sammy."

"Old Quil sent me to get you," Sam replies, shoulder's relaxed. Their momentum from relaxed-to-angry-to-relaxed almost gives me whiplash but I hold it together. I have to.

"Who's Old Quil?" I ask, mostly because I want Jacob's eyes on me. I'm sure he can feel my desire. I finally realize that I can feel his—his desire for me is like a solitary raindrop in a storm, rushing through me so fast that I can miss it if I'm not searching for it.

"He's the Medicine Man of our Tribe," Sam answers.

"He's also on the council," Jacob provides. The way they talk around each other leaves me in awe for a moment. They talk like a circle, no beginning, no ending. _Pack_. _Together_. _One_.

"If your dad's the Chief, why do you need a council?" I want to know as much as I can about him, about his people, about his pride.

"Think of it like a trusted circle, there to help guide my father when there are tough decisions to be made," Jacob explains huskily. Sam looks away; apparently, information on the tribe is a pretty intimate thing, and the pull lances at the prospect of sharing something so intimate with _him_. "Ultimately, the tough decisions can only be made by the Chief, but every leader needs help sometimes. That's what the council is there for. They're supposed to be the best of our tribe, there to give their trusted opinions in all matters."

"Do you have a council? As…you know, _wolves_?" I look into his eyes, wondering if I overstepped my bounds. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. I look into him, and see myself, scared, but terrified of not knowing the answers. Breathe.

"No," Jacob tucks a lock of my hair behind my ears. "We don't have a council. There's one council, and that's for the chief. What we, _I_, have is a hierarchy. A chain of command that runs deeps in our bones. Even if we didn't want to be in a certain position, the _imperative_ to dominate would force us to take what's in our blood to take."

I don't get it, and yet, the _pull_ understands perfectly. It's practically purring at the thought of what it _knows_.

"What's _your_ position?" the _knowing_ is strong, but the need to hear him admit what I feel is strong, too.

"_Alpha_," he lays the palm of his hand on my neck, and I shift my head, baring my neck slightly.

The movement is automatic, but I don't quite get it. Any outsider would see us, and wouldn't know, the movement was so slight. But we know.

"_Don't,_" Jacob says harshly. His eyes are on fire. I feel the fire, too. "Don't _ever_ bare your neck to me. Y—you're _more_ than that. I don't want you to _submit_ to me _ever_."

I don't want to submit to him, either. Just the thought petrifies me, but the _pull_ wants it _so bad. _I shake my head; I can't be ruled by it. I have to be stronger than the _pull_.

"Sorry," I murmur in reflex, and look away. Sam hasn't looked our way since he turned his face.

"Don't be sorry," Jacob says softly, apologizing without words. "I _know_ how hard _this_ can be. I just _need_ you to try—try to be _better_ than _this_. Rise above it, and not lose yourself to it. To _me_."

I can feel his fear, and I fear with him, _so much_. I want him so bad that it's crippling, and there are so many _imperatives_ that assault me that I feel like I'm swimming in the middle of the ocean. I don't want to let him consume me any more than he wants to consume me, either.

"Hey—hey," I try to deescalate the situation; my hands smooth over his chest. My own anxieties are raising his. "We're okay. _Equal_, right? We're okay. Just need some more practice in _this_, right?"

"Right," he takes a deep breath.

"So, what did Old Quil want?" I ask Sam; we need a change in subject desperately.

Sam seems to understand the shift, and he congratulates me with a smile—it's not as warm as Jacob's or as breathtaking as Paul's, but it has its own merit. It's a steady smile that speaks of a trustworthy man.

"I don't know, but it's been a while. He's probably catching a hissy fit by now," Sam jokes, and we all let out a dry laugh.

It's the best that Jacob or I can do right now. _We_. Together even in our fears and anxiety.

"You should probably get going then," I shove Jacob away playfully. The _pull_ stiffens, not understanding that it's a joke. My breathing picks up slightly, and Jacob's fingers are running through my hair in an instant.

"We're good, _honey_," he says huskily. "We're good."

The _pull_ relaxes after a moment, and a blush attacks me fiercely. Sam, _pack_, _brother_ to Jacob, just witnessed me have a mini breakdown.

I want to sink inside of a deep dark hole, only to come out when Sam is grey, old, and suffering from dementia and can't remember the spectacle I just made of myself.

He must have known my thoughts, because he smiles kindly and jokingly says, "Don't worry, at least you're not screaming Jacob's name at night. Emily wouldn't stop _screaming_ my name when she slept for _months_. Finally, we just moved in together—she wouldn't let anyone in her house get any sleep otherwise!"

Emily must be another imprint. Like me. A sister.

"When am I—I mean, _do _I—" I stumble over my words. I _really_ want to meet her. Someone like me. Proof.

I'm sure they can sense my excitement, even if they were blind and couldn't see it on my face.

"Soon enough," Jacob says with finality, but not unkindly. I wonder what he's thinking, but the _imprint_ can't go that far. Just feelings—shadows of his emotions run through me. Not words. Not tangible thoughts.

The _lack_ disappoints me, but I know I'm just being selfish. To know his thoughts would be too much. It would be an _invasion_ of his privacy.

Privacy. Home. Speaking of…

"How am I getting home? Paul dropped me off, but he lef—"

"He's outside, waiting," Jacob and Sam answer simultaneously. I look between them, trying to see more than I can.

I finally shake my head and move towards the door. I don't want to know.

"Bella?" Jacob calls out to me as I reach the door. I turn, triumphant. I had ignored the pull, the wanting, the _fire_ which wanted to keep me by his side.

I raise my eyebrows in inquiry. I'm feeling high off of my limited exertion of power. I may be _imprint_ but I'm not _submissive_. Equal. That's what Jacob _needs_, and something I'd be proud to be.

"I think Charlie might take exception to you walking through the door wearing my clothes and barefoot," Jacob teases me.

I'm completely mortified, and start to light up like a tomato.

But Jacob's laughter follows me into the bathroom where my clothes and shoes are, and I decide that I'd embarrass myself every day for the rest of _forever_ if he had the same response each time.

The _fire_ licks at me, but it's not my fire—it's _his_. It licks and nips, and _burns_ the best possible burn that exists, and I _know_ that he's _with_ me. He feels what I feel _with_ me, and I smile. _We._

* * *

><p>Soooo? What do you guys think? I realized that, though my aim is to make this story as down to Earth as possible, I may not be succeeding. Actually, I'm scared to think that I am failing horrible at it—what you guys think? Anywho, love it? Hate it? Let me know and Review! :)<p> 


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